


The Ill Intent

by 221Browncoat



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, ish, kind of, matt whump, pseudo-fix it fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221Browncoat/pseuds/221Browncoat
Summary: Someone rolls around with a message for Matt-a message that turns out to be a nearly fatal one. The encounter leads Foggy to face a sobering and terrifying realization. Rating for violence and language. Spoilers for seasons 1 and 2. Featuring Matt!whump, Pissed!Foggy, Worried!Karen, and a cameo appearance by everyone's favorite ultra-violent moody anti-hero.





	1. Chapter 1

Matt slid the pumpkin chocolate cookies into the oven, not bothering to set a timer. He'd be able to tell by the smell when they needed to come out. He settled himself into a kitchen chair to wait. The cookies were for Foggy, a desk-warming gift for his new office at the law firm.

A desk warming gift, and an olive branch.

Foggy hadn't actually been the one to tell him; Marci had, in a voicemail that was surprisingly and disarmingly sincere.

"He misses you, Matt," she'd said. "He's too stubborn to admit it, but he does. You should stop by. I think it'd be good for him."

There was still a chasm between Nelson and Murdock, which Matt knew wouldn't be completely healed by homemade cookies, but at least it was a start.

His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, and he was surprised when they stopped at his door, and more than just a little dismayed-he hadn't bothered to change out of his pajamas. The owner of the footsteps knocked, and Matt approached the door with caution. Whoever it was didn't have the same confident, if somewhat heavy, footfall of Foggy, nor the smell of Karen's coconut shampoo, nor the lingering scent of antiseptic and latex gloves that Claire could never seem to shake. He opened the door.

"Hello?"

"Murdock," the man said, and Matt instantly recognized the gruff voice of his landlord, whose name he suddenly couldn't, for the life of him, recall. "You told me not to give your apartment number out to strangers. Well, there's some guy down on the sidewalk out there wants to have a chat real bad. I said you'd be right down."

Matt sighed, grabbing his cane from where it leaned on the wall next to the door before following the landlord, padding down the hall in his socks. The man was mumbling something about "just came down here to check that vacant room" and "didn't sign up as a guide for my most destructive tenant."

Matt felt slightly less bad about forgetting the guy's name.

They made it down the stairs and out to the sidewalk and the landlord said, "He's at your ten o'clock, about eight feet," before going back into the building. Matt didn't blame him. It was four in the afternoon in an unseasonably warm March, and the record-breaking temperatures easily exceeded 85. The sidewalk was relatively devoid of people, the heat forcing them to find refuge indoors or in air-conditioned cabs or Ubers.

The man waiting for him was sweaty, but Matt doubted it was from the heat. The guy was nervous, shifty. Not much different from the clientele Nelson and Murdock used to take on.

"You Matt Murdock?" the man said, taking a few steps toward him.

"Yes. But I think there's been some misunderstanding. I'm not really a lawyer any more. But I can refer you to one-a very good one," Matt answered, hoping that Foggy didn't have too much on his plate.

"No need," the man said, stepping forward to close the gap between himself and Matt.

Something was off, the blind man knew, but he was in his pajamas, in broad daylight, armed with nothing but a stick that let everyone know that he was blind, and thus shouldn't be able to fight a man.

The man, now directly before Matt, spoke again. "I'm not lookin' for a lawyer, see. I'm lookin' for you."

Before Matt had a chance to react, the man, the vicious viper of a man, grabbed Matt's right shoulder while his own wicked right hand brought a knife forward, burying it in Matt's belly.

Matt gasped, the cane falling from his grip and clattering to the pavement, and the man pulled him in as if for a hug, ignoring the hands grabbing at his arms. Matt wanted to shrink away from the bearded lips that brushed his ear, from the hot breath tickling his neck, but he couldn't.

"Kingpin says hello," the man whispered, and before Matt could say, "Who the hell is Kingpin?" the knife was ripped from his body, then plunged in again, once, twice. A woman screamed, far away, and the man and his knife fled, and Matt was left alone, full of holes leaking hot fluid that his trembling hands couldn't seem to keep in.

His fiery world was dimming, replaced by a crimson darkness and a droning static. He tried to take a step, but his legs were somehow weak and made of lead all at once. He stumbled forward, then a step back, and then the ground was tilting upward to meet his body. The warmth of the sun-baked cement was uncomfortable, soaking up through his clothes and scorching his skin as his hands wandered uselessly over his wounds.

He'd been stabbed before, many times, but that was always in the heat of a fight, when he had adrenaline on his side, and was able to twist away from the bite of the blade. And he'd certainly never been stabbed three times in a row. What was that saying? Three strikes and you're out? He hoped that didn't apply to stabbings.

He couldn't be sure, because his own pounding in his ears was so damned loud, but he thought he could hear two other heartbeats, flighty and frantic and terrified, somewhere nearby. He wanted to get up, to make sure they were okay, and that the madman with the knife hadn't hurt them, too, but his limbs wouldn't obey, and the most he could manage was a vague, weak wave of his hand. Even that took a lot of effort, and his hand lingered in the air for only a moment before falling gracelessly to the pavement.

For the second time that afternoon, his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a pair of footsteps, fast and headed straight for him.

The man was returning to finish the job.

"You!" a voice barked-a familiar voice, one that hadn't carried threats and sharp, deadly weapons. "Call 9-1-1!"

Matt hoped the man, who he'd recognized now as his landlord, wasn't talking to him. He didn't think he had the strength to even reach into his pocket, much less pull out his phone and call someone. The landlord spoke again, this time much closer, and Matt guessed he'd knelt down on the pavement.

"Murdock? Hey, Murdock, you with me? It's Manny, your landlord."

Manny.

Of course.

Matt opened his mouth-there was plenty he wanted to say-but no words came out, just a low, breathy groan.

"That's okay. You don't hafta talk. There's an ambulance on the way. Just stay awake til they get here, yeah?" He sounded worried. Doubtful.

He carefully took Matt's left hand, the one still being soaked in blood, and tried to lift it. Matt resisted, partially on reflex and partially because he was afraid that if he moved his hand, his body would reenact the elevator scene from The Shining.

"Hey. Lemme see," Manny said, tugging a little harder. Matt let his hand be pulled away with a little reluctance, and the man let out a low whistle. "Gotcha a few times, didn't he?" He placed his hands over one the holes and pressed, slowly at first, then increased pressure. Matt drew in a sharp breath. "Okay?"

Matt nodded.

"Okay. There are three wounds that I see here. This one seemed to be bleeding the worst, so it's the one I'm gonna focus on. If it stops bleeding, or at least slows, before the ambulance gets here, I'll go on to the next one," Manny said. His voice was surprisingly calm.

"You!" The landlord directed his voice outward now, in the same commanding tone with which he'd told the person to call 9-1-1, and Matt remembered that there had been not one, but two frightened heartbeats that saw him get stabbed.

"Y-yeah?" A girl's voice. Young. Matt felt sorry for her; he probably looked a fright.

"You got a pen to go with that notebook?...Yeah? Good. Open to a blank page and write down exactly what I tell you." Manny's tone was gentle, but didn't leave room for argument.

"Okay."

"6' 3", 220 to 240, white male…" He paused, probably giving the girl time to write, before he continued. "Brown hair, a beard, blue eyes...tattoo on the left side of his neck...wearing black jeans, white t, and a black bomber jacket. You got all that?"

"Yeah...yeah, I got it," the girl said. Her voice was shaking. Matt heard her rip the paper from her notebook. "What do I do with it?"

"The police are gonna be here before too long. You wait til they get here, then give it to an officer. Tell them it's a description of the guy who did this. Then you and your friend go home and get some rest, okay? You've been a big help." Manny said, his hands shifting, pressing down harder. Matt finally found his voice.

"'m I dying?" His words sounded strange, faraway. If he hadn't felt the vibration of his vocal cords, he would've doubted he'd even spoken.

"Hell no!" Manny said, perhaps a bit too emphatically, as though there were someone to convince.

Matt was really starting to feel it now, through the haze and the heat and the wet-a sharp, radiating pain that seemed to go through his entire torso. He let out a small groan. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. I served two tours in Afghanistan. Seen some shit. That? That's nothing. That's bug bites."

Manny wasn't a bad liar, Matt could give him that, but he was still lying. He could feel his consciousness slipping as pain encroached on everything else in his brain and his heart pumped desperately, struggling to go on despite his rapidly decreasing blood volume. His eyes were just beginning to close when one of Manny's hands was suddenly patting his face, getting blood on it, no doubt.

"None of that, Murdock!" he said. "Awake until the ambulance gets here, remember?" His hand went back to putting pressure on Matt's wound, and Matt let out a cry, pain stabbing through him almost as sharp as the knife.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Yeah, I know. Sorry bout that. But hey, I can hear the sirens! Just a little longer."

"Not, uh...not what you signed up for, huh?" Matt said between the deep, fast breaths his lungs were suddenly forcing him to take. He could feel Manny look at him in surprise.

"Didn't know you heard that. Sorry. Wasn't a great day today...But you're right, it's not what I signed up for."

"Me neither."

Manny was silent for a second before saying, "How the hell have you managed to break that coffee table so many times, anyway?"

Matt was so surprised at the question, at the relative absurdity of it, that he let out a laugh. It hurt like hell, of course, and quickly turned to a wince and a groan.

"Would you believe...ninjas?" Matt managed between gasps, and it was Manny's turn to laugh.

"A blind guy kicking the shit out of ninjas? Now that I'd like to see!"

"They, uh…" Matt's head was spinning, the world tilting strangely beneath him, and he felt strangely cold despite the warmth surrounding him. "They do...most….most of th'...th' shit kicking." He felt his eyes rolling backward, and Manny was tapping his face again.

"Matt! Hey, Murdock, stay with me! Stay with me! The ambulance is turning the corner right now, buddy. I can see it. Not long now! Stay awake!"

"'m awake," Matt murmured, as much to convince himself as Manny. The roar of blood in his ears was getting louder, and it was getting harder to focus on the landlord's voice. Harder to focus at all, really. Everything was just...hard.He closed his eyes, and for a few blissful moments, the world melted away.

Something tightened around his right arm, uncomfortably at first and then painfully, and he let out a groan, reaching over to confront whatever it was. A hand grabbed his, but he was too weak to fight it.

"Matt? I'm Jake, I'm a paramedic, and that's my partner CeCe. She's just taking your blood pressure real quick, okay?"

Matt moved his head from side to side, trying to get a picture of what was happening, but the pounding in his head and the overwhelming smell of blood and the overall haziness that was overtaking Matt's brain made it impossible. He swallowed down the familiar panic of his childhood. The panic that came with being truly unable to see. "Where's Manny?"

"I'm right here, buddy," Manny's voice said from somewhere to the left, Matt thought.

"BP's 80/60 and dropping, we've gotta move 'im quick," said a woman's voice, next to his right arm. The one responsible for the squeezing, then. CeCe.

"Okay, Matt? We're gonna get you on a stretcher and into the ambulance here. We're gonna have to move you around a bit, okay?" Jake said. "Ready? And-"

An explosion went off through Matt's insides, and he ground his teeth together to muffle the scream, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I know, sorry about that. You still with us, Matt?"

Matt nodded weakly.

"Good. We're just about ready to transport you to the hospital. We can get you something for the pain in just a minute-"

"No!" Matt grabbed Jake's arm. "No...no drugs."

"Addict?" Jake asked.

"Catholic," Matt responded as the engine of the ambulance revved to life.

"Catholic," Jake repeated with a humorless chuckle. "Okay, well let me know if you change your mind. In the meantime, I'm gonna run an IV with saline, get your fluid level up, okay? There's gonna be a pinch, inside your left elbow."

Matt sucked in a breath as the needle went into his arm. The ambulance started moving, and he was suddenly made acutely aware just how much vibration there actually was in a moving vehicle. His body was doing that thing again, where breathing was suddenly a struggle and he was gasping. Now, though, it seemed like there wasn't any air getting in. He could hear snippets of speech from Jake-something about O2? And then there was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, and the air had that strange manufactured quality to it, but it was air so who gave a shit what it tasted like?

Manny was talking to Jake now, sounding-what, angry? Afraid? And Jake was talking too, only Matt couldn't tell who either of them were talking to. If it was to him, well, they were out of luck, because he couldn't really make out much in the way of words, with all the blood and sirens and oxygen crowding them out.

He suddenly remembered something very important and reached up for the oxygen mask (with his right hand, though; he didn't want Jake to have to put in another IV). He pulled it down toward his chin, but speaking was infuriatingly difficult, and the words wouldn't come out properly at first. It took him a few tries to turn the sounds into something coherent.

"C-cookies. In...oven." His apartment had survived ninjas. And Stick. He didn't want it to burn down from Foggy's pumpkin cookies.

Foggy.

"Call…" His tongue felt so big, and his throat seemed to tighten with each syllable he uttered. But this couldn't wait. "Call...Foggy."

He let go of the oxygen mask, his hand slipping down. His limbs had begun to tingle, and slowly, all the background noise was replaced with static.

"BP's tanking, he's going out on us!" Jake called.

It was the last thing Matt heard before losing consciousness.

XXX


	2. Chapter 2

"Foggy," Marci said, looking up from the files she was skimming. "Would you just answer the damn phone? Don't think I haven't noticed that it's been vibrating in your pocket non-stop for the past five minutes. I don't think whoever is calling you is going to stop."

Foggy sighed, pulling out his phone and looking at the screen. Matt, it read. He was tempted to ignore the call, but it was Matt's first attempt at contact in a while, and he usually wasn't so...relentless. Foggy looked at Marci and stood. "Jus sec," he said softly, then answered the phone. "Hey."

"Foggy Nelson?" said a gruff voice. Foggy frowned, a wave of fear washing over him.

"Yeah. And who the hell is this?"

"This is Matt's landlord, Manny. He wanted me to call."

Foggy's blood ran cold, and his phone almost slipped from his grip. "He's not-is he-" He couldn't even say the words. He'd found Matt dying on his own floor once, in the devil costume. Foggy'd gotten there that night and called for help. Lately, though, he'd been busy and frankly he was still kind of pissed at Matt and had stopped checking in and now-

"He's alive," Manny said quickly, and Foggy let out the breath hr hadn't realized he'd been holding. "They're getting him stabilized for surgery."

"Surg-what the hell happened?" Foggy cried, hoping to god that Matt hadn't been in the suit when Manny found him.

"He was...he was stabbed."

"Shit. Shit!" Foggy's mind was full of questions, but also fear and worry and shame, and he couldn't put words together. He hastily pushed his papers into a pile and grabbed his briefcase.

"Mr. Nelson? Are you okay? Foggy?"

"Uh...uh, yeah. Look, I'm coming over there right now." He hung up and finished shoving his papers into the briefcase. Marci was watching him, eyebrows pulled into a worried frown.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" she asked as Foggy slammed the briefcase shut.

"I'm sorry, Marci, but I have to go," he said shortly.

"Go where, Foggy? This is a huge case-"

"Matt's in the hospital, okay?" Foggy snapped. "He was stabbed! He was stabbed and I wasn't there and his landlord was the one to find him and I don't know if-" He stopped, taking a breath. Marci hadn't done anything wrong. There was no need to take out his worry on her. Another breath. His voice lowered from the near-shout. "I don't know if he's gonna be okay, Marci. I've gotta be there."

Marci set down her papers, looking him calmly in the eye. "Leave the briefcase," she said. "You don't need to be worrying about work right now. I'll take it to your place later. Go."

Foggy nodded, dropping his stuff on the conference table before heading out to catch a cab, skipping the elevator to take the stairs down, two at a time. The first cab he saw stopped, and Foggy was grateful that, for once, the taxi gods were ruling in his favor.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked.

"Metro-General," Foggy replied, digging his phone out of his pocket. He took a deep breath as the taxi rolled out into traffic, scrolling through his contacts 'til he found the one he wanted and pressed call.

"Hey, Foggy. I haven't heard from you in awhile, how're-"

"Karen, hey. This, uh, this isn't a social call. I'm sorry. I don't…" Foggy cleared his throat. "I don't wanna have to be the one to tell you this…"

"What's wrong?" Her voice was taut, as though she already had an idea what had happened.

"I'm, uh...I'm on my way to the hospital. Matt's been hurt. I don't know all the details-or any details, really-but it's bad. He's on his way into surgery."

"Shit. I'm on my way. Was he...is his secret safe?"

Foggy took a deep breath. The worry in her voice mirrored his own: near frantic. "I don't know. His landlord didn't say much."

'"His landlord? He's the one that found him, then?"

"That's what it seemed like, yeah. I guess we'll find out more when we get there. "

It took Karen a minute to answer, and when she did, her voice was thick and strained. "Foggy, I'm scared. I don't want to lose him."

Foggy sighed, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears before they had a chance to start. "I don't want to lose him either. But if there's anything I know about Matt Murdock, it's that he's tough. And a stubborn bastard."

Karen laughed a little, and some of the tension had left her voice when she replied. "Yeah, he really is."

"Hey, I'm almost at the hospital, so I'm gonna hang up. I'll see you soon."

"'Kay. Call me if you find anything out, okay? And I mean anything."

"I will, Karen. Bye." He put his phone in his pocket and pulled out his wallet, his money ready so that when the cab stopped, Foggy shoved the bills in his hand and stumbled out of the cab, running into the hospital and coming to a screeching halt at the reception desk. "I'm here for my friend," he said quickly. "Matthew Murdock. I, uh...I think he's in surgery. I'm his emergency contact."

The receptionist, a small woman who looked like she could probably kick the shit out of Foggy, nodded and looked at her computer, frowning and clicking and typing in a few things. "Okay, sir. Mister…?"

It took him a moment to realize she was addressing him. He was too worried to be embarrassed. "Um, Nelson."

"Mister Nelson. It looks like Mister Murdock just went into surgery. Once he's out of recovery, he'll most likely be placed in the ICU. If you go to the waiting room on the fourth floor just outside the ICU, I'll let the doctor know you're there and he'll give you what information he can when he can. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Foggy chewed on the inside of his cheek. "No. No, thank you." He had no idea how long the surgery would be, how badly Matt was injured, and from the sound of it, he wouldn't know for awhile. Meaning his mind would be free to play out worst-case-scenario after worst-case-scenario.

He dragged himself to the elevator, the spike of adrenaline he'd had already waning, leaving him exhausted from worry and desperate for the answers that he knew he wouldn't get anytime soon. He was thankful to find that the elevator was empty, and he got in quickly and closed the doors, then his eyes, leaning his forehead against the wall and letting himself cry for the short ride. The tears had stopped by the time the elevator doors opened again, and he followed the signs until he found the right waiting room. He didn't bother sitting; as exhausted as he was, there was no way he'd be able to relax.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Karen for the second time in less than an hour.

"Foggy, have you heard anything?" she asked immediately, and Foggy sighed.

"No, not really. I'm sorry. They just took him into surgery, that's all I know. I just wanted to-to let you know that I'm in the waiting room on the fourth floor, by the ICU."

"I'm almost there, Foggy. Just...just hang in there, okay? I mean, we both have to. For Matt."

"Yeah. Yeah, Karen."

"I'll see you soon Foggy. Bye."

"Bye." He hung up, then stared at his phone for a long time before putting it back in his pocket. He couldn't stop thinking about how things might be different if he'd just kept an eye on Matt. If he'd just called. Or at least answered Matt's calls.

Nothing would've changed, he thought bitterly, and it surprised him, but only for a moment. After all, he was right. Matt wouldn't stop being Matt, and that meant he wouldn't stop being Daredevil. He would keep trying to take on the world, until it killed him.

If it hadn't already.

Those four words were still bouncing around in his head when the elevator doors opened, and Karen stepped out, eyes rimmed with red. She spotted Foggy and offered a fragile smile that crumpled as soon as he pulled her into a hug. She made no sound as she cried, her shoulders shaking lightly against his as he tightened his arms around her frame.

"He's gonna be okay," Foggy said into her hair. And he actually believed. Something told him Matt was gonna get through this and go right back to being a huge pain in everyone's ass. "Why don't you sit down. I'll go and get us some coffee."

She smiled, wiping her eyes. "Sure. Thanks, Foggy. You remember what I like?"

Foggy smiled back. "Of course I remember...cream and two sugars?"

Karen snorted. "No cream, four sugars."

"Four sugars?" Foggy repeated in disbelief, and Karen laughed.

"Don't you judge me, Nelson."

He crossed the room to the counter where a coffee maker resided, getting them both their coffees and sitting next to Karen. He handed it to her and she thanked him, taking a sip of it and making a face.

"How long do you think that's been sitting there?" she asked.

Foggy took a sip of his. "It's not so bad." The taste settled, and he found himself making a face against his will. "Nope. No, you're right. That's terrible."

They sat in silence for a moment, and Foggy found his mind crawling back to the dark space it had been in before Karen had appeared, and judging from the expression on her face, she was going through something similar.

"So...how's work?"

"You know, I love it. I really do. Not that being your guys's...whatever I was wasn't rewarding and all, but this is…" She smiled. "I dunno, Foggy. It just feels like I'm really doing something, you know? Although, there is this co-worker…"

Foggy smiled and nodded and listened, glad to be distracted, laughing at the various little absurdities Karen faced as a journalist. When she was done talking, Karen announced that it was his turn. He did his best, talking about life at a big firm, though none of his stories were as funny as hers. She laughed anyway, and Foggy suspected it was because if she wasn't laughing, she'd be crying. He was just finishing a story about a coworker's unfortunate run-in with a new printer from Japan when a doctor walked in and said, "Mr. Nelson?"

Foggy rose from his chair, heart pounding. "Yeah."

The doctor gestured for Foggy to go to him, and the two of them walked around a corner.

"I'm Doctor Jensen. I'm the one who operated on Matthew. He was in bad shape when they brought him up. The knife hit his pancreas and the inferior vena cava-the vein that carries blood from the lower body to the heart. We were able to stop the bleeding and repair the damage, but he lost a lot of blood. He's in the recovery ward now, then on to the ICU. He'll be pretty weak, and we're going to need to keep a close eye on him to make sure his pancreas heals correctly. But we're very hopeful. He's strong, and young, so everything should heal up well."

Foggy let out a breath he hadn't realized he's been holding, his eyes welling in relief. "He's gonna be okay?"

"It's looking that way," Dr. Jensen answered, and Foggy almost hugged him.

"Thank you. You'll let me know when Karen and I can see him?"

"The minute you're allowed to see him I'll make sure you're told. I've got other patients to get to, but if you have any questions, ask around and we'll get you the answer."

"Thank you, Dr. Jensen," Foggy said, shaking the man's hand. When he got back to the waiting room, Karen was standing up, the lines on her forehead spelling her worry. "He just got out of surgery. He was hurt pretty bad, but doc says he should heal fine."

"Oh, thank god," Karen breathed, sitting back down, her elbows on her knees. She sighed. "Thank god."

Foggy sat down beside her. "Thank god."

XXX

They were allowed in to see him one at a time. He was still unconscious, and might stay that way for up to a few days, but it was good just to see him. Even if he did look like shit. Pale skin, with dark circles under his eyes, a cannula in his nose and IVs sticking out of his arms. Foggy and Karen took their turns visiting him, Foggy talking quietly about their college days, Karen just sitting and holding his hand. They took turns for as long as visiting hours would allow.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Sorry this took forever to get out! I'm hoping the next one will be sooner, and it for sure will be more exciting. Thanks for the support, guys!


	3. Chapter 3

It was Matt’s third night in the ICU when he appeared, not for the first time, in her kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, in a pose that she imagined was supposed to look relaxed; the general stiffness of his appearance said the he was otherwise. He looked up at her as she flicked the lights on, his expression becoming almost apologetic when she jumped. 

“Shit, Frank, I’ve told you before that you need to call first,” Karen said, closing the door and setting her purse on the table. She pulled a chair out and collapsed into it with a huff. “So?”

“I saw on the tv about Murdock. He okay?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“He’s still in the ICU, hasn’t woken up yet. His doctor says it should be any day now.” Karen studied him as she spoke and he looked away, almost bashful, his baseball cap hiding his eyes in its shadow. “That’s not the only reason you’re here, is it?”

Frank cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “No. There was a description of the shitbag that did it, and one of those...those police sketches. I knew ‘im.”

Karen’s heart jumped. “What?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. I, uh, I met ‘im. In prison. They called ‘im Snake Eyes.”

“Snake Eyes,” Karen repeated. She reached for her purse. “I need to tell the police.”

Frank snorted, straightening up and turning to face her. “What do you think they’re gonna do, huh? That guy’s got connections all over this city, probably in the force, too. Naw, he’s made himself disappear.”

“Well, I can’t just do nothing,” Karen argued, phone in hand, feeling an angry heat crawling up her neck.

“That’s exactly what you’re gonna do. This guy’s dangerous.” He must have noticed the expression on Karen’s face, because he sighed, looking at his feet then back up at her. “Look, do you trust me?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure how to answer that,” Karen said with more venom than he deserved. She still had no idea what to make of her odd relationship with Frank Castle. There was mutual respect, sure, but trust?

“Well, I need you trust me on this: I will take care of it.”

Karen let out a laugh of disbelief. “So, what? You’re going to do the impossible, do what the police can’t, and find this, this...Snake Eyes? And then what, punish him? Kill him?” She felt for Frank, she really did, but his actions weren’t inexcusable even if he had every reason in the world to take them.

“I wasn’t plannin’ on it, no” Frank said. “You’ve believed in me before, Karen. I need you to believe me now. I will take care of this.”

“Take care of it how?” she asked, rolling her eyes when he shrugged. “Look, Frank, I-”

“Please,” Frank interrupted, and the sincerity in his voice stopped her. He took off the hat, pointing it at her. “Look, you saw what he did to Murdock, right? The guy is dangerous. The cops got him once, there’s no way in hell he’s going down a second time. Not without taking as many down with him as he can. He won’t expect me.”

Karen sighed, putting her face in her hands. When did her life get this damn complicated. She sighed again, putting her hands down and looking at Frank, whose hat was back on “Alright. Fine. You still have the same number?”

“No. No, I’ll write it down for you,” he said, scanning the counter until he found a pen and a napkin. He scribbled on it. 

“I’ll call you, let you know how he’s doing,” Karen said, and he nodded his thanks. She watched as he squeezed through the kitchen window, a feat that never failed to amaze her, and then disappear down the fire escape. She sat at the table for a long time, thinking about the conversation that had just happened, before finally dragging herself to bed to get a few hours of sleep in before she headed back to the hospital.

XXX

He still hadn’t woken when they determined him to be stable enough to move to general ward. Karen was grateful because it meant slightly more comfortable chairs, and that she and Foggy could stay there together and be there when he woke up. Foggy was looking over some files for work, Karen reading a cheap romance novel she’d found in the gift shop. The hero, a Scottish warrior that had been transported into present day by a witch, was finally convincing the woman he’d fallen for that he was from the 13th century when Matt groaned.

Karen and Foggy looked at each other.

“Did you just hear-” she began. 

“Did he just?” Foggy said at the same time. Both of them put down their reading material, looking at Matt. He let out another groan, shifting a little with a small grimace on his face. 

“Hey, buddy, you with us?” Foggy said softly, touching his hand.

“Can I-” Matt began, but broke off into a cough. 

“You want some water?” Foggy asked, and Matt nodded. While Foggy took care of that, Karen went out into the hallway and flagged down a nurse. 

“Hey! Matt just woke up for the first time in days,” Karen said, and the nurse raised her eyebrows. 

“Matthew Murdock?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” Karen answered, and the nurse smiled. 

“I’ll go find Stacy. His nurse. She’ll be by in a minute to check on him.”

“Thank you,” Karen said, and walked back into the room, where Matt’s bed now had him sitting up more. He looked pale and a little sweaty, but there was a small smile on his face. 

“Thank you guys, for staying here,” he said, his voice a little croaky from being out of commission for so long. “You didn’t have to.”

“Like hell we didn’t,” Karen said, putting a hand on his knee.

“How long was I out?”

“Almost a month,” Foggy said, grinning wickedly as shock took over Matt’s features. 

“Foggy,” Karen said punching him on the shoulder. He scowled at her. She ignored him. “It’s been four days, Matt.”

Matt closed his eyes. “Four days, huh? That makes more sense.” He frowned. “It’s really hard for me to see right now,” he muttered, and Karen and Foggy both knew what he meant. 

“Well, they’ve got you on some pretty heavy pain meds,” Foggy said. “I know, I know, you’re Catholic. But you had surgery, so.”

“Surgery, huh?” Matt asked. It was then that Stacy walked in.

“Hi, Matt. I’m Stacy, your nurse. I’m just here to check on a few things, make sure everything’s going the way it should.” She spoke cheerily, and Karen was kind of glad that Matt couldn’t see her. “Okay, things are looking pretty good.” She reached around his neck, undoing his gown and pulling it down. 

Karen felt her ears turn red as she looked away. She hoped Foggy would think she just didn’t want to see Matt’s injuries. Which, honestly, she didn’t. 

“Well, these two are looking pretty good but the third one here is starting to get a little infected. We’ll up your antibiotics, get that taken care of before it has a chance to get too serious. She pulled a drawer open, shuffling through and pulling out a packaged needle. She opened the package, pushing the needle into an IV bag. “There you go! I’ll leave you alone now. If you need anything, just press the button.”

“Thanks, Stacy,” Matt said with a half-smile. 

As soon as she was gone, Foggy closed the door, and Karen saw a look on his face that made her heart jump. Before she could say anything, Foggy spoke.

“Look,Matt, I am glad you’re okay. I am. But when I got the call, I was scared shitless.”

“Foggy…” Karen said, putting a hand on his elbow. He pulled it away. 

“Matt, I care about you. And that’s why I cannot keep doing this.”

“Foggy.” It was Matt that said it this time, and the hurt on his face broke Karen’s heart. 

“No! I need you to listen to me, okay? I found you in your apartment half-dead--more than half-dead! And then I found you on a, on a rooftop after being shot in the head!”

Karen frowned. Matt had never mentioned being shot in the head. 

“Matt, you keep doing this. You get hurt again and again, and you keep doing it! You’re going to get yourself killed!” Foggy continued. 

“Foggy!” Matt said louder. 

“I’m not going to watch you die!” Foggy cried. “I can’t-”

“Foggy!” Matt cried, and Foggy’s mouth snapped shut. Matt closed his eyes, his lip pursed, and took some deep breaths. “I was in my pajamas.”

“What?” Foggy’s voice was soft, his eyebrows knit. 

“When I got stabbed, I was in my pajamas. Barefoot. Standing out on the sidewalk in the middle of the damn day. The guy who stabbed me wasn’t after the...the Devil. He was after me.”

“Shit,” Karen breathed, while Foggy sat down, looking shocked. “Do you know who he was, why he was after you?”

Matt shook his head. “No idea.”

“Dammit, Matt,” Foggy said, and his voice was tight. Karen looked over to see tears in his eyes. She put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Did he say anything to you?” Karen asked. Maybe she could do some digging, figure out why this Snake Eyes character had wanted to hurt Matt.

Matt frowned. “Not much that I remember...He did say one thing, just before he...just before he did this. It didn’t make any sense, though.”

“What?” Karen and Foggy said at the same time.

“He said, ‘Kingpin says hello.’”

“Who the hell is Kingpin?” Foggy asked. 

Matt shrugged. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

“Well I’m going to figure it out, and when I do-”

Before he could finish his threat, there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” Matt called, but his voice was still croaky, so Karen repeated it. The door opened to reveal a short but well built man who looked to be of Hispanic descent. 

“Hi. Sorry if I’m interrupting. I just wanted to come check on Matt, see how he’s doing. I’m his landlord, Manny. I meant to come earlier, but stuff came up...”

“Manny!” Matt said with a grin. “Manny, this is Karen and Foggy. Karen, Foggy, this is the man that saved my life.”

Manny blushed at the attention, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Naw, that was the people here that did that. I didn’t do much.”

“You kept me calm and awake until the paramedics arrived. You gave a good description of the asshole that did this to the police. You called Foggy for me. That’s quite a bit. Thank you, Manny.”

Manny looked at his shoes. “I just did what anyone would do. Anyway, I wish I could stay longer, but I’ve got the kids this weekend. I’m glad you’re okay, Murdock. Oh, and I took the cookies out of the oven. They were burnt all to shit. What kind were they, anyway?”

Matt’s face turned slightly to Foggy. “Pumpkin chocolate,” he said. 

Karen looked at Foggy. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was looking at the floor. Those were his favorite.

“Pumpkin chocolate,” Manny repeated. “Huh. Well, if you ever make another batch, let me know. I’d love to try one. I really am glad you’re okay. You’re not the best tenant I’ve ever had...Not even close. But you seem like a hell of a guy.”

“Thanks, Manny,” Matt said with a small laugh that turned into a barely noticeable wince. “Of course I’ll give you some cookies. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me.”

Manny blushed again. “Yeah whatever. I’ll see you around, Murdock. Nice to meet you two.” He ducked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“He seems nice,” Karen said, and Matt nodded. 

“Yeah, he’s a pretty good guy.” He grimaced. “I think whatever they’re giving me is starting to wear off.”

“You should call the nurse,” Foggy said. “She can give you more. You had surgery, so I think it would probably be fine for you to have some of the good stuff.”

Matt shook his head. “Naw, I’m okay.” He closed his eyes.

“You need to rest,” Karen said. “Foggy and I are gonna head out, but we’ll be back first thing tomorrow.”

Matt was already asleep.

XXX

“Who would wanna hurt Matt? I mean, Daredevil I get. Bad guys don’t like being messed with. But Matty? He’s...he’s harmless! I mean, unless he’s in court...You think this could have something to do with a case?”

Karen sipped at the coffee she’d gotten before she and Foggy had gone to her apartment. “I don’t know, Foggy.”

Foggy stopped pacing. “Karen, I’ve been terrified for Matt since that day I found him in his apartment. You should’ve seen him, it was, it was...But I thought if he could just give it up, let someone else, anyone else, deal with the shit in this city, that he would be safe, you know? I mean, as safe as anyone is in this city. But I guess...I guess not.”

Karen looked up at him. “Foggy, I know it seems easier to push him away. To keep yourself guarded and distanced in case he...in case we lose him. But if we do lose him, you’re going to regret it. Losing him? It’s going to hurt no matter what. You should spend time with him while you can.”

Foggy rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then ran his hand down his face. There were tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over. “You’re talking like we’re gonna lose him for sure.”

Karen blinked back tears, reaching across the table to hold Foggy’s hand. “We lose everybody sometime.”

XXX

Foggy finally went home to take a shower and get a real night’s sleep. Karen was still sitting at the table, thinking about the conversation they’d had, when she remembered something she’d promised to do. She got up and went into the kitchen, pulling out the napkin Frank had left. She dialed the number, and it only rang once before he answered. 

“Karen. Hey.”

“Hi, Frank. I just wanted to let you know, Matt woke up today. He’s doing well. It was really hard, not telling him that I knew who hurt him. But I didn’t want him to do anything stupid, you know? Plus, the questions he’d have about how I know…”

“He doesn’t know we talk?”

Karen closed her eyes and sighed. “Not exactly, no.”

“Well, I don’t blame you. He have any idea why the guy stabbed him?”

“Uh...no. I don’t think so. I mean, the guy did say something to him. What was it? Oh. Kingpin says hello. Whatever the hell that means.” She was meant with silence. She frowned. “Frank?”

“Yeah. That’s some weird shit. What room is Murdock in?”

Karen opened her mouth, then shut it. She wasn’t sure it was such a good idea for Frank to be visiting Matt at the hospital.

“Karen. You might as well tell me, I’ll figure it out no matter what.”

She sighed. She absolutely believed him. “Room 324.”

“Thank you. I’ve gotta go. You get some rest, yeah?”

“Yeah. Bye, Frank.”

“Bye.”

Karen stared at her phone a long time before finally going into her room and plugging it in. She changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed, staring at the ceiling for hours before sleep finally snuck up on her with the stealth of a tiger.

XXX

Frank wasn’t sure how to wake him. He was standing at the end of the bed, contemplating nudging his foot, when Matt said, “Frank? ‘s that you?”

Frank was impressed. Even at half-capacity (if that), Murdock was perceptive as shit. “Yeah. I, uh...I know somethin’. I’ve gotta tell you.”

“What’s that?”

Frank hesitated. He didn’t want to get Karen in trouble with Matt, but it was important. “Don’t get mad at Karen,” he finally said. 

“What?”

Frank could hear the frown in his voice. “We talk sometimes. But that isn’t what’s important here, Murdock. The guy who stabbed you, he mentioned a, a Kingpin?”

“Yeah, he did,” Matt said. His voice, though controlled, was wrought with curiosity.

“I’ve heard that name before, when I was in prison. People callin’ him that like it’s his new title or somethin’. You and him know each other pretty well, I think.”

“Who?” Matt asked. 

“Wilson Fisk.”

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thanks for the continued support! As you can see, this chapter got out much faster than the last one. I was really excited about it, ha ha. I’m glad so many people seem to be liking Manny! I’ve been seriously so flattered by the comments about him. It’s kind of a special feeling when people like a character you create. Thanks for reading!! I don’t think the next chapter(s) will probably be this fast, so thank you for your patience. You guys are awesome.


	4. Chapter 4

“Wilson Fisk,” Matt repeated, struggling to keep his heartbeat steady to avoid unintentionally calling a nurse in. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure.”

“Fuck,” Matt breathed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the pillow.

“There..something I should know?” Frank asked with some caution, taking a step forward that was more curious than threatening.

Matt let out a long breath. This was his own fault. “Uh, maybe, yeah. I, uh...I went and saw him. In prison, I mean.”

“You what?” The judgment in Frank’s voice was thick enough that Matt could’ve cut through it with a knife.

“I...I don’t know what I was thinking,” Matt murmured. 

“The hell did you say to him, Red?” Frank demanded.

“I may have...threatened to get the love of his life deported.”

Frank let out a sound of disbelief. “I never took you for an idiot. Stubborn, yeah, self-righteous, absolutely, but a complete dumbass? Shit. What’d he do?”

“After trying to break the table with my head? Told me that he would come after me. Me and everyone I love. Foggy and Karen...I’ve put them in danger.” Matt sighed. Frank was right. He was a complete dumbass.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Frank said after an uncomfortably long silence. “I think Fisk was probably planning on coming after you guys long before you visited him in prison. You know that, right?”

“No, Frank, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Matt griped, although it kind of did. Maybe he wasn’t entirely responsible for the targets that had been painted on his friends. He sighed.

Who was he kidding?

“What am I supposed to do?” he said, struggling now to keep panic from overtaking his vitals. “The guy that did this is still out there and I’m...here. I mean, the pain is bad, and I’m just lying here. It’s gonna be weeks before I’m even steady on my feet again, and god knows how long it’ll be before I can fight. What if in that time-”

“I’ll keep an eye on ‘em,” Frank interrupted, startling Matt. 

“What?” he asked, sure he had heard wrong (even though he knew he hadn’t).

Frank made an uncertain noise. “I, uh...I’ll make sure nothing happens to ‘em. At least until you’re back in shape. You know, I won’t get too close or nothin’, just...just make sure no one tries anything.”

There was a part--a large part--of Matt that wanted to tell Frank to stay the hell away. But there was an even larger part, a more practical part, a more desperate part, that reminded him that, for the next while, he couldn’t protect them on his own. Time for him to swallow his pride.

“Thank you, Frank,” he said softly. 

Frank hummed his response. He stood there for a second before saying, “I should probably go.”

“Yeah,” Matt replied. He waited until Frank was just out of earshot to add, “Be careful.”

XXX Two weeks later

“Your apartment still smells like burnt cookies,” Foggy said with a sniff.

“Foggy!” Karen whispered. 

“Well, at least the apartment didn’t burn down,” Matt said with a small grin. He was making his way to the couch at a slow, half-bent shuffle. The pain was better, but he was definitely still in recovery. 

“Matt…” Karen ventured, and Matt waved a hand. 

“I’m fine, Karen,” he said with a tight smile, barely making it to the couch before collapsing gratefully onto it. He was dismayed but not surprised when he had to take a minute to catch his breath. 

“Okay, Matty?” Foggy asked gently, and there was nothing but sincerity in it--no trace of bitterness, not a hint of I told you so.

Matt let it bathe over him. Took a deep breath. It felt good. Having Foggy back. It felt warm. 

He only wished it hadn’t taken getting stabbed three times for them to finally talk again.

Such is the way with hard-headed, stubborn-ass men, he thought to himself. 

“Matty?” Foggy repeated, and Matt turned toward him.

“I’m okay,” he said, and was surprised when his voice cracked on the last word, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. He tried to wipe them away but he wasn’t fast enough, and a big drop leaked from his eye, tracing down his cheek and trying to make it to his chin. The back of Matt’s hand caught it before it did. He could feel Foggy and Karen’s eyes drilling into him and he cleared his throat, offering a watery smile. “Sorry. Heh. I don’t know…” Whatever he was going to say next was trapped behind the giant lump in his throat. He tried to swallow it, and was dismayed when a sob erupted from him instead.

Foggy was before him in an instant, pulling Matt up and into a hug. Matt held back a gasp of pain; he didn’t want Foggy to let go. Shoulders shaking, Matt returned the embrace. Foggy was crying, too now, and Matt didn’t know what to say. He just cried. 

“I missed you,” Foggy said finally.

“I missed you, too,” Matt said into Foggy’s shoulder. There was a sharp pain in his middle, and Matt didn’t bother trying to hide it this time. 

“Oh!” Foggy cried, pulling away from Matt but still holding onto him. “Sorry, Matty!” Foggy helped him ease back onto the couch.

“Should I...should I order some take-out?” Karen asked. There was a moment of silence, and then the three of them burst out laughing.

It was, admittedly, a little painful, but Matt wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

XXX

Frank stood at the end of the alley, back pressed against the wall as he waited in the shadows. It wasn’t long before the man turned the corner, whistling tunelessly to himself. Frank let him get the key in the door before he struck.

“What the fuck?” the man shouted as Frank slammed him against the wall. His face, twisted with rage, changed quickly as he recognized his attacker.

“That’s right,” Frank growled. “You know who I am, Snake Eyes. Why do they call you that? Snake Eyes. ‘Cus you ain’t worth shit?”

Snake Eyes had gone pale, and Frank thought he could feel him trembling. It gave him a savage sort of pleasure. 

“How’s about we take this conversation inside, Snake Eyes?” Frank said.

“O-okay,” the man whimpered. His hands trembled as he tried to turn the key. He finally got the door open, and Frank pushed him inside, closing the door behind them and locking it. There didn’t seem to be anyone else inside, but the mess and stench of the place suggested that there were other people living in the place besides Snake Eyes.

“So this is where you sons of bitches hole up, huh?” Frank said, looking around the small space. “It’s a dump.”

Snake Eyes didn’t answer, and Frank looked at him. “You got a table at least?”

Snake Eyes nodded and led Frank through the front living space to a cramped kitchen. There was a table that was barely big enough for two, chair on each end.

“Sit down. I wanna have a chat with you.”

The man grew even paler as he sat shakily across from Frank.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Just wanna have a conversation with you, Snake Eyes,” Frank answered. “Now would you put your hands on the table where I can see ‘em?”

Snake Eyes did so, and Frank grabbed his right wrist in a tight grip. The man’s face lit up with panic, and he tried to pull away.

“Hey,” Frank said. “Hey, now. Stop it. I need to talk to you.” With his free hand, he reached up and took hold of Snake Eyes’s pinkie. 

“No, no, shit no, please,” Snake Eyes whimpered. He let out a scream as Frank snapped his pinkie. “What do you want? What do you want, please, I’ll tell you anything, please,” he gasped. “Please.”

Frank moved to the next finger. It was like breaking a toothpick. Snake Eyes screamed again, panting and begging.

“Pl-please. What do you want? Please, I’ll...I’ll do anything.”

Frank nodded thoughtfully, studying the man’s face. “I believe it,” he said, and broke the man’s middle finger. Snake Eyes didn’t even make a sound that time, his mouth opening, nothing coming out as tears slid down his face.

“You’re going back to prison, Snake Eyes,” Frank said calmly. “And I want you to deliver a message for me. To Wilson Fisk.”

Snake Eyes lifted his eyes from the table. “What?”

“Wilson. Fisk,” Frank repeated. “I want you to tell him that he’s picked a fight with the wrong people. I want you to tell him that when he gets out, ‘cus we all know he’s gettin’ out, I want you to tell him that the Punisher is waiting for him. Understand? Tell him the Punisher’s waiting, that we’ll pick up where we left off.”

Snake Eyes nodded. There was a note of desperation in the movement.

“Say it!” Frank barked, and Snake Eyes jumped.

“Punisher...the Punisher is waiting. You’ll...you’ll pick up where you left off.”

Frank gazed at him. “Very good. That’s not the whole message though.” 

The next finger made Snake Eyes lose consciousness.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter! I have a lot of writing deadlines lately plus I'm sort of creatively plugged up at the moment, which doesn't lend itself to outstanding chapters. But I hope you like it anyway, an thanks for the support!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the maaassive delay on this final chapter!!! I got super busy with my Big Bang (which is Matt Murdock joining the Avengers if you're interested--and the art that was done for it is super dope, too!) and a few whump exchanges, but I finally finished this one! And right in time for The Defenders!!!

They were eating Chinese when Karen’s phone rang. She scowled and set her chopsticks down, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She looked at the screen and sighed. 

“It’s work, I gotta take this.” She stepped out into the hall. 

Matt and Foggy ate in silence, and it was pretty obvious they were trying not to listen in on Karen’s conversation. They both turned toward the door at Karen’s cry of _holy shit!_ and Foggy’s heart jumped when she walked in looking shell-shocked.

“You okay?” Matt asked before Foggy could, and she nodded. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. That was Ellison. Uh...apparently someone named Jonas Fischer just turned himself in for Matt’s stabbing. With all of his fingers broken.” 

Matt’s face flickered with...Foggy wasn’t quite sure what, but it flickered with _something_. As for Foggy himself, he was experiencing something he’d never felt: a tightness and a burning in his gut that made his fingers curl into fists and his heart race and his breath come harsh and heavy. 

“Are you okay, Foggy?” 

Matt’s voice cut through the haze and Foggy nodded stiffly. “Yeah. I’m fine,” he said, standing. “I’ve gotta go.” He strode toward the door, practically shaking with adrenaline. 

“Foggy, what are you doing?” Matt asked in that voice that meant he knew Foggy was about to do something stupid. 

“Should I come with you?” Karen added. 

“I’m fine,” Foggy said, too harshly for the fake smile that followed to mask. “I’m a grown-up guys. You don’t have to worry about me. Matt, I’ll come back tomorrow or the next day to help you finish the leftovers. See you later!” 

Knowing that he hadn’t been at all convincing, he hurried out the door before either of them could say anything else. He made it out of the building and to the sidewalk, both surprised and relieved when neither of the others followed. It was late, so he called a cab, paced restlessly while he waited for it to arrive. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, barely glancing at the screen before turning it off. When the cab arrived, he got in, told the driver where to go, and didn’t say a word the rest of the way. 

The feeling was eating him alive. 

When he got to his destination, he handed the driver a bill that was too big, grunted at him to keep the change, and got out, storming into the building he’d been dropped at. He stopped the first person he saw. 

“My name is Franklin Nelson. I’m Jonas Fischer’s attorney.” 

The officer he’d stopped raised an eyebrow. “You got here pretty fast.” 

“I was in the area,” Foggy said shortly, and it didn’t sound like him. A small corner of his mind told him that he should be worried right now, that maybe he should just go home and _forget about it_ , but he ignored it. As he followed the woman down the hall, his heart pounded heavier in his chest--not out of fear, though, no. No, this was something more akin to anticipation. He barely heard it when the officer opened the door and explained to the cop inside that _this man is the lawyer_. The cop shot Foggy a dirty glance as he exited the room, but Foggy ignored it. 

“Jonas Fischer, I’m your attorney,” Foggy said, standing across the table from the man as the door was shut behind him. 

“You look like you want to kill me,” Fischer said. 

“I’m Foggy Nelson.” 

“That s'posed to mean something to me?” Fischer looked at him with an unimpressed stare. 

“It will,” Foggy muttered, and then he was launching himself at the bastard, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and dragging him from the chair to slam him into the wall, and then Foggy’s fist was smashing into face--cheekbone, eye-socket, nose, cutting into the bastard without mercy. It wasn’t long before Foggy smelled blood, not long after that that he heard a _crunch_ as somewhere bone gave, and even sooner after that that he was being pulled off the now partly-mangled son of a bitch that had been stupid enough to stab Matt Murdock. 

“Nelson! Shit! What is wrong with you?” someone cried once they were in the hallway. 

And just like that, the feeling--the hungry and visceral rage--was gone, leaving a panting lawyer with a throbbing hand and the sudden realization that he had just done something Very Bad. He looked up at the face that belonged to the hands that had dragged him off of Jonas Fischer and sagged a little with relief. 

“Mahoney,” he said. Then, to answer the question, “He stabbed Matt.” 

Brett Mahoney nodded, his eyes wide. “Yeah I know that. I’ve never seen that look on your face. I _definitely_ never thought you’d be capable of doing that.” He jutted his chin toward the room they’d just left. 

Foggy hesitated, not sure he wanted to see his handiwork. He finally looked anyway, to where a couple of officers were helping Fischer to his feet. The left side of his face was bloodied, his eye swelling shut, his nose crooked and gushing blood. Foggy was equal parts horrified at what he had done and savagely satisfied. 

“Shit,” he said. 

Mahoney nodded. “Shit is right.” 

Fischer said something to one of the officers, and the cop’s eyes widened a little, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. He nodded, then walked over to Foggy and Mahoney. 

“Guy just said he doesn’t wanna press charges. He insists that Nelson was acting in self-defense.” 

Foggy was stunned.”Wuh-I--” A swift elbow to the ribs from Mahoney shut him up and Foggy cleared his throat. “That is _exactly_ what happened. Self-defense.” 

The officer nodded slowly, eyes narrowed. After a moment he spoke. “Alright. Whatever you say. This better not get me in trouble, Brett. If it does you can be sure as shit that I will bring you down with me.” 

“I believe it, Duncan,” Mahoney replied, shooting a glare in Foggy’s direction. “I’m going to escort Fischer’s attorney out now.” 

They were barely out of earshot when Mahoney turned on Foggy, brow furrowed and eyes wide. “You are damn lucky it was me that pulled you out of there, and you’ve got some divine intervention to thank for that guy not pressing charges! I think I can keep things quiet about this, but you pull that kind of shit again and I will arrest your crazy ass myself. Are we clear?” 

“Crystal,” Foggy muttered, staring at his shoes. “I’m uh...I’m sorry. Not really sorry that I did it, just...sorry that I put you in that position. I don’t really know what came over me…” Foggy looked back up at Mahoney. “Your mom still like those cigars?” 

Mahoney forced back a smile, shaking his head. “You leave my mother out of this, Nelson. Now get your ass out of here before I arrest you for bribing an officer.” 

Foggy put a hand on the officer’s shoulder. “Seriously, though. Thank you, Brett. I owe you one.” 

“You’re damn right.” 

Foggy gave the officer a final nod, then went into the bathroom to wash his hands. It wasn’t until he went to turn on the sink that he noticed how badly his hands were shaking. He wasn’t sure why they shook, whether it was adrenaline leaving his body or an emotional response to what had just happened, but he did his best to still them as he ran his swollen knuckles under the cool water, letting it wash away the blood. He stared at the red-pink liquid as it swirled down the drain and found himself thinking about Matt. How did he handle the emotional intensity that came with beating the shit out of another human being, and on such a regular basis? Had he found a way to temper those emotions? Or did he even care? Maybe he was numb to it now, taking people down with cold efficiency, then waking up the next morning as if nothing had happened. 

The idea scared Foggy. 

The sound of the door opening startled him from his thoughts, and he quickly turned off the water, leaving the bathroom without drying his hands and avoiding eye-contact with the man walking in. He hurried out of the precinct and onto the sidewalk, surprised to see that the sun had dipped below the horizon. More time had passed than he thought. He pulled out his phone with a still-trembling hand and turned it on and was immediately guilty as he saw how many missed calls he had. He sighed and dialed Matt. 

_“Foggy! Are you okay? What the hell is going on? Karen and I have been worried! We called you, like-”_

“I know, I know,” Foggy interrupted. “I’m fine, Matt. I’m sorry. I just...something came over me and…” He bit his lip, not sure whether he wanted to tell Matt the truth. 

_“And what? What’s going on, Foggy?”_

Foggy let out a long breath before answering. “I, uh...I beat the shit out of Fischer.” 

_“You_ what _?”_

"I know,” Foggy groaned. “It was incredibly stupid. But I was just so mad and I knew he would be _right there_ and...He hurt you, Matt.” 

There was a long pause before Matt spoke. _“Well, come back over. We haven’t opened our fortune cookies yet, and I’ve got rocky road in the freezer. Besides, it’s Friday night. You don’t want to spend it alone.”_

“Rocky road you say?” Foggy said, relieved that Matt didn’t seem to angry. “I’ll be right there.” 

XXX 

By the time Monday rolled around, Matt, his landlord, and two girls had positively identified Jonas Fischer, and the weapon was found covered in his fingerprints and Matt’s blood. Things weren’t looking good for the asshole, and Foggy couldn’t be more satisfied. 

After Karen had left that night, Matt and Foggy had had a long talk that had left both of them in tears. Foggy had found a new understanding of his friend, and the two of them were closer than ever. Strange, how it was the shittiest things that brought people together. 

Foggy walked into work that morning feeling oddly refreshed and ready to face the day, a spring in his step and a smile on his face that vanished when he saw Marci and the look on hers. 

“Jeri wants to see you in her office.” She said it as though she were sending him to his grave. 

Foggy’s heart jumped. “Do you know why?” 

“I have no idea, but she didn’t look happy. What did you do?” 

Foggy headed toward the elevator, heart pounding. “I don’t know,” he said, and could tell she didn’t believe him. She didn’t press, though, and he headed up to Hogarth’s office on his own. He bounced his leg nervously, his palms sweating. He wiped them on his pants as the elevator opened and he walked to Jeri’s office. He lifted a hand and tapped on the door. She looked up sharply and gestured for him to come in. He obliged, shutting the door behind him. 

“Nelson,” she said. There was danger in her voice. 

_“You heard about that, huh?” he said._

“You’re damn right I heard about it! What on god’s green earth were you _thinking_? Do you know what kind of shitstorm you could’ve rained down on this firm? You’re lucky that man didn’t press charges! And you have no _idea_ how many favors I had to call in, keeping your name out of the press.” 

Foggy listened quietly, nodding after each point until she was done, at which point he asked the question that had been gnawing at him. 

“Am I fired?” 

Jeri’s livid face softened just a bit and she sighed. “No, you’re not fired. You _should_ be, but you're not. And you’re not suspended, either.” 

Foggy’s eyes widened his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. “Wow. I mean, thank you but...why?” 

“Because someone hurt somebody I loved once, too, and if I’d ever had the chance to be alone in a room with the son of a bitch, I’m not sure he would’ve made it out alive. You are not to come into any further contact with Fischer, and if you _ever_ pull that kind of shit again, you’ll be out of here before you can blink. Is that understood?” 

Foggy nodded. “Understood. Thank you.” 

Jeri nodded back, then returned to whatever she’d been working on when Foggy arrived. 

“Go on,” she said, and he left, stunned at how much trouble he hadn’t gotten into. 

“Everything okay?” Marci asked when he got down to his office. 

Foggy smiled. “Surprisingly, yes. Everything is okay.” 

And for the first time in a long time, it almost felt like it was. 

XXX _Epilogue_

It was Matt’s first night back and things were going surprisingly smoothly. It was a little disconcerting how easily he fell back into it, and it honestly felt kind of good to be busting heads again after weeks off the job. Not as many weeks as the doc had recommended, but enough. 

He’d just finished busting up a drug deal and was now chasing down the last unfortunate dealer. He caught up to the man quickly (not as quickly as usual, but that was okay) and grabbed the front of his shirt, shoving him against the wall. Before he had a chance to ask who his supplier was, the man started blubbering about something Matt couldn’t understand. 

“Slow down!” Matt barked. “Say that again, slower!” 

“Just let me go, man! Bigger things are coming, ‘ite? I’m nothing compared to what’s coming. Just let me go!” 

“What bigger things?” Matt growled, slamming the man into the wall again for good measure. 

“I dunno, man! Look, I just got out, okay? I just got out but there’s some crazy talk going down in there, man. Like, like--there’s this guy, right? Big guy, scary guy, but people listen to him! People listen to him an’-an’-an’ he’s got it out for you man. He wants you _gone_. He’s got this nickname, right? Makes people call him Kingpin.” 

Matt’s swore internally as he knocked the man unconscious. He was feeling unusually out of breath, and his stab wounds were aching, and now...this. Wilson Fisk wasn’t just after Matt Murdock, he was after Daredevil. He wasn’t surprised, not really. Just dismayed. He got the sense that life was about to get a lot more complicated. 

The most he could do was try and be ready when the storm came. 

XXX 


End file.
